For the first time in far, far too long he roused from recharge without pain.

He'd learnt to still his speech centre before recharging near others, to wake with a silent scream rather than one that drew unwelcome attention. It would be vorns yet before he could return to consciousness without feeling his mate's loss anew. Even now, he knew this respite was fleeting.

Warmth and comfort filled him nonetheless. They spread from his spark, from the gentle energy that soothed him and grieved with him at one and the same time.

Prowl had experienced the touch of the divine only rarely – once, that he recalled, while he guarded the AllSpark at Simfur, and again on the day Praxus died, when Optimus Prime stood helpless and only the swelling touch of the Matrix saved them all from despair. He recognised the sensation now, and for just a moment he allowed himself to accept the comfort offered.

Somewhere outside and within them all, Lord Primus was watching over Prowl, and weeping with him. Somewhere in the Well, Jazz rested, and knew peace not only for a fleeting moment but for eternity.

The reminder helped, a little, the comfort he derived from it bittersweet.

His field shifted, the tiny sparklet vibrating against his own spark still dormant, but strengthened by the energy the Matrix had gifted them both. The instinct to protect the infant was irresistible. Prowl felt the cool surface of his chest-plate under his servo-tips. He booted his optics, and already the peace of his awakening was fading.

His outspread servos could do nothing to shield Jazz's sparkling from the miseries of the world. Even if a miracle occurred, and the little one survived long enough to experience them, what kind of life was Prowl gifting him? He would never know one of his parents. In all probability he would be robbed of them both. Alone, innocent, in the midst of a war not of his making, what future could the infant expect?

The questions circled in his processor, the last echoes of the Matrix's touch drowned out by Prowl's anguish. He'd set his fears aside for a few days, focussing at least some of his anxiety on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Now he felt the keen rising again in his spark, and thanked Primus again that he'd thought to block his vocaliser.

Ratchet might not have been fooled, but Ratchet was still in recharge. Buoyed by the Matrix's gift, Prowl himself had 'charged for only a fraction of a cycle, waking long before he expected to. Across the room, he could see Optimus Prime's bulky form still keeping vigil beside the twins' berths. Automatically, his processor hardly on the task, Prowl noted the low-pitched purr of his friend's systems. He knew it well, and couldn't help but be grateful that Optimus had slipped into a light recharge himself. That would make this easier.

The thought passed through his processor before he was consciously aware of his decision. As soon as it had, there was no avoiding it. Prime's words from earlier played through his memory files, together with his own all-too-feeble replies.

He slipped from his medical berth with silent grace, reaching into the NEST systems to override any alarm that might alert Ratchet or others to his actions. He watched Optimus Prime carefully, a precisely tuned sedative ready for deployment at a moment's notice. He couldn't take an argument. Not now.

There was something else he had to do.

"Prime?" Ironhide pitched his voice in an intense whisper. His servo gripped Optimus Prime's shoulder, giving it a hard shake. "Slag it, Prime, wake up!"

Prime stirred, the hum of his systems picking up a few notches. Ironhide's worried optics flickered over the room again, passing over the resting twins with a strong sense of relief, and glancing at the empty berth against the far wall with an equally strong alarm.

"Ironhide?"

"Shh…" Ironhide's grip tightened, his hissed warning carrying further than he would like. "Wake Ratch, and you'll regret it."

Optimus blinked at him, his optics cycling through a quick reboot.

"What…?" Prime's optics swept the room, checking on Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and moving on. The big engine stalled and then raced. He stood abruptly, turning on the spot to better scan the entirety of the medical centre and forcing Ironhide to step back. "Where's Prowl?"

"Slag!" The curse came from ankle level. Ironhide had left Lennox by the door, striding forward to wake his Prime. Now the major had followed, peering up at the two mechs towering above him. "We were hoping you knew."

Optimus Prime didn't speak. He reached down, and gathered Lennox up – the uninvited action speaking clearly of his distraction. Ironhide followed his Prime towards the door, brimming over with questions he daren't ask in the quiet of medbay.

He caught the heavy door before it could slam, and a moment later, Jolt took it from him, slipping past to watch the twins in response to Prime's commed order.

Night had fallen across the NEST base. Which night, Ironhide couldn't be sure. He'd lost track of the Earth days at some point in this whole slagging affair. Maybe it was Prowl's return, maybe only Cybertronian scales could encapsulate the epicness of twin-sized messes, but for the first time since he arrived, Ironhide was thinking in terms of orns rather than mere twenty-four hour days.

Somehow that didn't make the seconds that passed as Prime led the way back into the main hangar, and placed Lennox safely on the gantry, seem any shorter. Lennox looked worried, but also wary, waiting for Prime to take the lead. Ironhide waited too, his cannons whirring in agitation. Prime's helm tilted, his expression carefully neutral and his optics distant. He managed to keep his voice almost level when he finally spoke.

"Prowl is not responding to my communications. No one saw him leave?"

Ironhide didn't need to answer, not when his expression spoke for him. Lennox scowled across the gantry, shaking his head. "If any of the sentries caught sight of him they haven't reported it."

"Indeed." Optimus nodded once. Then the orders started rolling out, the broadcast channel echoed on the displays behind the human major.

… Optimus Prime to NEST sentries, all Autobots: medical priority. Report location of SIC Prowl if known, else locate. Coordinate sweeps through command as required…

Lennox shook his head. "Slag it. One full day, that's all I wanted. Was one day with things actually going right too much to ask for?" He sighed, nodding as the duty officer looked to him for confirmation. The expression he turned on Prime was grim.

"You're worried he might have gone for a walk and passed out somewhere? Might be unable to answer?"

"Prowl's not fond of medbay, but he's smart." The whirr of Ironhide's cannons were a counterpoint to his gruff voice. He folded his arms and gave a shake of his helm. "If Ratchet told him to stay put, he wouldn't just wonder off on a whim."

The frown on Lennox's face deepened. The major rubbed his brow, accustomed by now to the suddenness of Autobot crises but no less wearied by them. "Could he have been confused? He's spent more time unconscious than awake since that big crash."

Now Ironhide's snort was one of wry amusement. "You think even Optimus could get Ratch to recharge if Prowl was still that bad?" He shook his helm, frustrated. "If Prowl got out of there without setting off Ratchet's alarms, or waking Prime, then he knew exactly what he was doing."

On the screen, the first wave of negative reports was coming through. Ironhide paced, swerving to avoid Bumblebee as the young scout arrived at the command centre. 'Bee transformed, the look he threw in Prime's direction nervous. Optimus nodded to his scout, a small gesture indicating the monitor equipment. Bumblebee chirped his agreement, taking over the coordination of the new search. At least this one had some degree of constraint. It wasn't as if Prowl could have got far, or been spirited away by human thieves as Sunstreaker had been. On the other hand, those humans hadn't known they were being hunted. Prowl, Ironhide was quite sure, knew exactly what to expect.

"We're not going to find him, are we?" Ironhide swore, one fist landing in the other palm as his frustration escaped him. "Not until he's good and ready. This is Prowl we're talking about. He was specced for high end stealth before he bonded with the sneakiest mech in the army!"

Lennox rubbed his brow again, and Ironhide didn't need medical grade scanners to tell the human was nursing a headache.

"Okay, so he needed time to think. What's the fuss? You keep telling me he's smart, so he'll call if he needs help, right? Wait 'till he's low on power and he'll be back of his own accord."

"Perhaps." Prime had been standing, statue-stiff, his optics gazing into nowhere. It was almost a shock to hear him speak, more so to hear what he had to say. The Prime paused, his words heavy and sombre. "If Prowl chooses to leave us, I cannot and will not stop him. I must respect my friend's decisions. However… I am concerned Prowl's judgement on matters of his own health and well-being may have become compromised. When he chose to sacrifice himself for our victory in Poland, I was… dismayed. His sense of self-worth…"

Ironhide scowled, shaking his helm. "Prime, you know fragging well that Prowl would have pulled our afts out of the fire even before Jazz died."

Optimus Prime tilted his head in reluctant acknowledgement. Ironhide nodded himself in satisfaction. The emotion faded when he detected the increase in Lennox's pulse rate and the perspiration on the human's brow. The major swallowed hard.

"Prime, are you telling me one of your officers may be suicidal?"

"Frag no!"

"Prowl wouldn't do that, not to Jazz!"

Ironhide and Bumblebee spoke over one another, both vehement. Both fell silent after their initial outbursts, their optics on Prime. He took longer to consider his response… long enough that Ironhide felt his spark dim and his frame tighten around him. Bumblebee, looking over from the monitor station, had stopped even pretending not to listen.

"Actively, no. Prowl is committed to our cause, and is aware of his own importance to it. I do not believe he would have reached Earth without a genuine determination underlying his actions. However, his bond-mate's deactivation has left Prowl's health fragile. As Ratchet has made clear to me, Prowl remains in a serious condition and while some degree of recovery is possible, he is unlikely to improve significantly on a timescale of human years and could easily deteriorate further. I fear that he may be discouraged, sufficiently so to ignore warning signs that others might register. I am quite certain that his grief runs deeper than I can articulate."

Ironhide cycled his cannons, his plating ruffling in his discomfort. He gave a short nod, not denying anything his Prime said. Prime shook his helm.

"I am uncomfortable with the knowledge that Prowl is alone. I fear that he will not be as responsive to the needs of his frame as his condition truly merits."

Lennox swallowed hard. Ironhide could read the questions still building within him, but knew the major would never ask them. NEST's human soldiers had their own codes, just as the Cybertronians did. All of them knew what war and loss could do to a spark – and shared that knowledge in grim silence.

In the end it was Bumblebee who broke the silence. The youngling chirred uneasily.

"Optimus, do you think Prowl might have gone to see…?" his question trailed off. He hardly needed to finish it. Both Ironhide and Optimus could follow his chain of thought all too easily.

Prime inclined his helm. "The thought had occurred to me. I shall investigate." He transformed, rumbling out of the hangar with slow deliberation.

Ironhide shook his helm. He turned to the gantry and nodded to Bumblebee. "I've got this. Go join the search, Bumblebee. And pray to Primus we find him before Ratchet wakes up."

"Gone? What the frag do you mean he's gone? He has to be somewhere!"

Swimming his way out of stasis lock to hear Ratchet's angry yells was a comfortingly familiar occurrence. For once though, Sideswipe was pretty sure the words couldn't apply to him. For a worried moment, shadowed by unfocused memories of pain and distress, he wondered if Ratchet was shouting about Sunstreaker. The fear came and went in moments. Sunny felt off – ill or hurt – but his spark pulsed warm and reassuring, somewhere close enough that Sideswipe knew he'd be able to reach out and touch his brother.

"Ratchet." Prime's voice. Despite his lingering unease, Sideswipe felt instantly better, just hearing those deep tones. "Please remain calm."

"Calm?!" Ratchet's near-screech wiped out any hint of comfort. "Our slagging second is barely fit to be upright, let alone wondering off without telling anyone! You were meant to be watching him!"

Prowl? Sideswipe's optics flared into life. His processor flared too, the sharp stab of pain telling him it wasn't ready for the sudden input. His motor processes hadn't even responded to his impulse, their initialising algorithms lagging his processor.

"I believed he would recharge for rather longer."

"He would have done, if someone hadn't decided to get fancy with the Matrix!"

Sideswipe's optics flicked from medic to Prime, his processor still reeling a little as he tried to catch up with the conversation. Prowl was here? He cycled his vocaliser, about to ask the question, and Ratchet's finger stabbed out in his direction, the medic not even looking at his patient.

"Move, and you'll regret it. I'll take your plating and have it for fancy dress! I don't have time to deal with you right now."

Sideswipe stilled his vocaliser. There were times you could push Ratchet and get away with no more than an idly-swung warning wrench. Vorns of experience told him this wasn't one of them.

"Optimus, I want Prowl back on that berth, and I want him there now."

Sideswipe followed the wave of Ratchet's hand automatically. His frame loosening now, he pushed himself up on one elbow, peering across the room. There was indeed an empty berth there, but Sideswipe's attention was distracted by something closer and far more immediate to him.

Sunny's frame was perfect, his plating smooth, his finish immaculate. There was no sign of damage, at least that his brother could make out. Sideswipe frowned nonetheless, trying to resist the urge to reach out and touch his twin. Sunny was going to be okay. Sides was sure of that, and the medical monitors above their berths confirmed it, but he could fell his twin aching all over. Sunstreaker's systems grumbled a long way from their usual fine-tuned rhythms. Sideswipe himself had a backlog of systems errors and enough retuning to do to keep him busy for weeks. Whatever had happened – and Sideswipe had only the haziest memories of alarm, need and pain – it had to have been serious.

Serious enough to bring Prowl to their aid?

Sideswipe looked up, again ready to ask questions, and again his vocaliser faltered. This time though, it wasn't a threat from Ratchet that silenced him, but the expression on Optimus Prime's drawn faceplates.

The heat of Ratchet's scowl could have melted lead. He saw it too. "You checked…?"

"Indeed." Prime nodded slowly. "And our forces continue to search the base. However, I fear that if Prowl has not yet been found, he does not wish to be."

Ratchet snorted. "Since when has 'wishing' been a valid reason to leave medbay without my permission?"

Optimus sighed, his ambivalence clear. "Ratchet… when he arrived, I told Prowl we would not keep him here if staying proved too difficult. He fought so hard to reach us... Injured or not, he has shown himself capable of rational, reasoned thought. If our friend cannot... cannot abide with us, I have no grounds on which to recant my initial promise."

Ratchet paced in front of his Prime, the medic's circular saw whining in nervous reaction. The medic's faceplates worked through expression after expression, his inner conflict apparent.

"And if there was an additional factor that might be distorting things for him, affecting his decision making?"

Prime's optics cycled. The Prime stilled, silent for a few moments.

"Prowl is a vital element of the Autobot armed forces. As his commander, I would need to know any such information."

Ratchet hesitated, his scowl and over-bright optics still conflicted. Then he looked up at Prime, his blank expression hinting at the private communication he had initiated.

It was frustrating, but hardly a surprise for Sideswipe to find himself excluded. Propped up on his elbows, he watched Prime's face, and heard the stutter in Optimus's engine. It was a long few sparkbeats before the Prime nodded once. He rebooted his vocaliser with an audible click.

"I will redouble the search effort."

Ratchet didn't answer. He just watched as Optimus Prime turned and walked out of medbay.

"Ah, Ratch…?" Sideswipe was far from sure whether speaking up at this point was common sense, or literally taking his spark into his own hands. Ratchet spun towards him, his expression unguarded for one long, emotional moment. Sides had been in Ratchet's care more often than he could remember, and knocking on the door of the Matrix more than once. He'd rarely seen the medic so openly relieved to meet his optics.

Ratchet still didn't speak. He came towards Sideswipe in silence, and the warrior cowered a little despite himself. He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to merit a full-on attack, but with Ratch, it was always a little hard to be sure.

Sideswipe was just about ready to roll off the bed and run for it when Ratchet reached forward, gripped the big warrior's shoulders, and pulled him into a rough embrace.

For a moment, a stunned Sideswipe was rigid and stiff in the circle of Ratchet's arms. Then he relaxed a little, one servo coming up to pat ineffectually at the medic's armoured back.

Ratchet released him – dropped him really. Sideswipe's helm thudded into the berth, and by the time his optics rebooted and cleared, a wrench had appeared in Ratchet's servos, and a scowl on his face.

The return to familiar territory was oddly comforting.

"Sit still," Ratchet snarled. The medic ran a tingling scan over Sideswipe's red plating, and grunted something that sounded vaguely satisfied. He waved a brisk hand towards the warrior's twin.

"Sunstreaker will be alright. He'll be awake soon – no thanks to his fragging stupid habit of wondering off like that." Ratchet's servos came around clipping the back of Sideswipe's helm with a half-hearted blow. "And we will be talking about that. Believe me."

Sideswipe nodded, still trying to unjam his vocaliser after his surprise. The shadow of whatever the Pit his brother had been through still niggled at him, but Ratchet's assurance lifted the worst of his concerns. At least on that front.

"Prowl's here?"

"You think he'd stay away when you yelled for him loud enough to be heard in the Pit?"

"I did?" Sideswipe blinked, his optics cycling. He tried to retrieve a call-shaped memory from the haze of the last few days, but if one existed, it was going to take a serious amount of defragging to figure it out. Certainly more than a disoriented front-liner had time for right now.

Ratchet was looking at him again, wrench still in hand but with that slightly dazed expression back in his optics – as if he couldn't believe he was seeing Sideswipe alive.

"Ratchet…" Sideswipe shook his helm, trying to figure out the right question to ask. He threw up his servos, abandoning the effort. "What the frag is going on?"